Flower of Slaughter

Master took a deep breath, and beneath the interweaving of dawn and night, he raised his longsword, Moonlight.

With a roar, he slashed forward with unstoppable momentum.

Wisps of white magic surged—wind-attribute magic—stirring up a vast cloud of dust.

"Sigh, have I truly reached the limit?"

Master retracted Moonlight and returned it to its scabbard.

His gaze then hardened, and he muttered to himself.

"No, I can still go further. I need more tempering between life and death; I need slaughter. Only when the magic within my body reaches its limit will I be able to break through."

"Sir! Look who I've brought!"

A familiar voice rang out from afar, and Master snapped out of his thoughts, looking into the distance.

Russell galloped toward him on a warhorse, arriving before Master in moments, with someone sitting behind him.

"Did you go drinking?"

Master asked in a cold, expressionless voice.

"Uh... hahahaha, how could that be? I just went to town for a stroll. Look who I have behind me."

Russell rubbed the back of his head, feeling awkward, and hurriedly changed the subject.

"Old Rune's son? The Lord already sent word, but you must first pass the knight's examination."

Master did not pursue the matter further and looked at the boy behind him, his brow furrowing.

"Sir, my name is Charles. I hope to become a squire under your command and serve Lord Aurelian."

Charles quickly climbed down from the horse, his expression filled with excitement.

"Very well, Charles. You have taken one step closer to hell."

Master walked up to Charles, looking down at his resolute face with icy eyes and a detached tone.

Charles felt a cold wind sweep over his entire body, causing him to freeze as cold sweat broke out across his back.

Master turned around and added indifferently.

"Follow me."

"Whew~"

Once Master's gaze left him, Charles nearly collapsed to the ground.

"Keep it up, I believe in you."

Russell appeared beside Charles at some point, placing a rough hand on his shoulder in encouragement.

"Yes, I will succeed!"

Charles nodded, standing back up with a powerful sense of determination, and ran forward.

Quietly watching Charles walk away, the hot-tempered Russell wore a complex expression, as if he were looking at his younger self.

"Sigh, do young people these days never listen to advice? That place ahead is hell."

Charles followed closely behind Master, not daring to slow his pace for fear of being left behind.

The journey was silent until Master stopped in front of a building.

The door was wrapped in cold iron chains; Charles was familiar with this lock, known as Thorn Wrap.

It was typically used to seal doors containing important items; the town warehouse used similar chains.

"I used to believe that talent determined everything, that those with legendary bloodlines were the favored children of heaven, while we were nothing but mortals."

Master seemed to be talking to himself, but Charles, standing behind him, heard every word.

Charles was stunned, his face full of confusion, not understanding what the Knight Commander was trying to say.

"However, ever since my duel with the Grand Knight Commander, I realized that there is something even more important than talent: tempering. One must live toward death. Only the most brutal environments can give birth to the Flower of Slaughter, and only the most brutal environments can evolve the strongest of warriors."

Charles was left dumbfounded by these words.

The Flower of Slaughter? The strongest?

"So, are you prepared to accept the most brutal trial here?"

Master turned his head and said coldly.

Silence, nothing but silence. Charles did not know how to respond; it seemed this knight's trial was nothing like what he had imagined.

Click—

Master pulled out a key to unlock the Thorn Wrap and pushed the door open with force, a thick stench of blood rushing out to meet them.

"Are you ready?"

Master turned to look at Charles behind him and asked.

"I... I... I am ready."

For some reason, his original confidence had vanished into thin air in the blink of an eye. Fear raised its head once more, but his remaining stubbornness forced him not to give up.

Master curled the corner of his mouth into a sinister smile.

The heavy door slammed shut. Charles heard the sound of thorns intertwining to seal the exit, and the footsteps of the person outside faded into the distance.

"No!"

Charles roared in despair; this Master was nothing but a madman!

This was no knightly trial—it was murder!

Growl...

A low, guttural snarl emanated from the deep darkness of the room.

Charles felt his heart turn cold and hurriedly drew Black Blood, pointing the blade toward the absolute, suffocating darkness.

Tap, tap, tap...

His heart sank to the bottom of a well, yet his hand gripping the hilt trembled uncontrollably.

"I... I warn... you... do... do... do not come any closer!"

Charles widened his eyes, his entire body coiled tight.

Growl...

Green eyes manifested in the darkness, flickering like embers; the creature's pitch-black body was a natural camouflage in this environment.

Yet, its sleek fur betrayed it—this was a terrifying, man-eating beast!

"Shadow Cat!" Charles spat out the name of the monster lurking in the shadows.

There was no joy in recognizing his enemy; instead, Charles felt only deeper despair, for the vicious reputation of the Shadow Cat was notorious.

Cruel and tyrannical, it loved to toy with its prey, driving them into a corner before slowly tearing away their flesh and devouring them while they were still alive.

Those targeted by it always met a gruesome end, their bodies left in scattered, unrecognizable pieces.

Charles was gripped by extreme panic. With his back pressed against the door, he had nowhere left to retreat; he had been driven into a dead end.

What do I do? What do I do? I cannot die here—I am going to be a knight!

Even a rabbit will bite when cornered, let alone a man.

Gripping Black Blood tightly, Charles suddenly recalled the words Master had spoken earlier.

"Born from death; only the most brutal environments can nurture the flower of slaughter."

Yes, only by facing death can I survive!

Charles tightened his grip on the longsword, gritted his teeth, and charged forward with reckless abandon.

"ROAR!"

The Shadow Cat let out a low growl, meeting Charles head-on as it lunged at him.

Squelch!

Warm blood sprayed down, and Charles's pupils constricted.

It hurt!

It hurt so much!

But he roared, gripping the hilt of his sword and driving it deeper.

"Awoo!"

The Shadow Cat let out a heart-rending cry, collapsing into a pool of blood as its life force flickered out.

A longsword was plunged deep into its heart, and boiling hot blood continued to flow from the wound.

Charles collapsed powerlessly to the ground. Three bloody gashes marred his chest, the searing pain stimulating his nerves so intensely that he could not lose consciousness.